He's a Ruby and I Liked Red
by Town of ice
Summary: He tries to kick away the world that scratches at his feet but they won't let go. The clouds are streaming in. He can't breathe. "There's still time." He says, leaning into the earth, leaning into the world, "You can still come back."


**A/N: **I'm sure there should be a trigger warning here but I'm not sure for what. This story seriously hurt.

**He's a Ruby and I Liked Red**

_All through the tunnel, and onto the track.  
>I wonder what it's like when your hands stop this shaking<br>It's as cloudy as I dreamt it would be  
>It's as empty as I thought it would be<em>

He tries not to think of a broken boy under a car. He tries not to think about a body spinning like clock's hands by the ceiling. He tries not to think of an ocean pressing down on the poor boy's eyes.

He tries not to think of that colour blue. He tries not to think of the softness of skin on skin or the sound of quickened breath. He tries not to think of his voice or his song or his hands or his eyes or his hair or his ears or his back or his legs or his feet or _anything_. He tries not to think and he tries not to feel.

It's not needed and it's wrong and he doesn't know. He doesn't think of the boy's father's eyes in the church and he doesn't think of the irony that it really was a church. He doesn't think of the way his own father said, "Good riddance," with a sneer and he doesn't think of how he left most of his things at home when he left. He doesn't think of the flowers or the notes or the stuffed dolphin. He doesn't think of the giant grey rock with his favourite name on it. He doesn't think of the years engraved and of how there wasn't a big enough difference between them. He doesn't think and he doesn't think and he doesn't think. He doesn't feel, he doesn't feel, he doesn't feel.

He can't think of the song he played in the car with the windows down. He can't think of standing at the door. He can't think of the dark eyes that say so. He can't think of the sounds or the voices. He can't think of the cold porch. He can't think of sitting for hours that became days that became weeks. He can't think of saying no. He can't think of falling and falling and falling. He can't think of the hands that pushed him home. He can't think of home because they don't know that his home is gone with the light in their eyes too. He can't think of dying and dying and dying. He can't think. He can't feel, feel, feel.

_I hope you've got presents  
>That make you pretty happy<br>I hope you grow old and  
>I hope that you find somebody nice.<em>

He's grown used to walking and walking as far as he could. He's grown used to falling down. He's grown used to the sound of his heart in his ears as he presses against the ground. He's grown used to waiting. Waiting for the boy to press back.

He didn't have enough time. Just one more day, he says. One more time. One more second. Just one more second.

Just one more. Only one. All he can think of forever is that one more is not a lot. Only one more. He asks and he says so and he lies on his back on the floor. He waits and he waits forever and ever.

Forever passes by. He doesn't see.

_I guess I should a lot of things, huh?_

He forces back against the ground, he breaks reigns, he thinks. He thinks he breaks loose. He thinks he makes a dent in the wall that is seperating them. He stopped wanting anything. He only wants the boy forever but forever is not long enough. He tries not to think and he tries not to feel and he tries not to want.

But he wants him. He wants him and wants him and wants him back. He wants to let him come back. He would take his place. He could take his place as long as he got to have his one more second.

When the real world calls for him, he shakes his head and pulls more snow on top of himself. He settles down lower and lay his cheek against the ground and tries not to think of falling. He doesn't want new things. He wants to only have one thing so that way he will never forget. Only him and the boy, only Blaine and Kurt. If he forgets Kurt he will forget to breathe.

_Well, all this time I guess I wished that I had the time to say goodbye._

On that day, he washes away the rest for good. He only leaves Kurt. He stays for a long time.

"Why did you go?" His voice is not the same but it's been a while. He curls his fingers over the floor beside him. "I didn't see you yet. I didn't say bye. I thought you would come back."

He tries to kick away the world that scratches at his feet but they won't let go. The clouds are streaming in. He can't breathe.

"There's still time." He says, leaning into the earth, leaning into the world, "You can still come back."

The blue of his eyes is fading. The colour of his skin and the sound of his voice. The smell of him and the softness of his skin and the taste of his lips. Everything. It isn't the same. Blaine tries not to think these things, he tries to stop the world from spinning too quickly under his feet.

"You could still come back." He says again, because he has to say it a thousand times to remind Kurt every day, "Please come back. Just for a little while." He says it even though what he really means is forever.

And the day is too bright and the night is too dark and the fog is too thick. There isn't anything else he wants.

"I didn't say bye yet."

He tries not to think about the feel of the boy's lips with his. He tries not to think about the size of his eyes. He tries not to think of his eyelashes or his hair tickling his nose or his hands twining through his own. He tries not to think of the warmth on him or the sound of his breath.

Suddenly, it's hard to get right.

On that day, a rush of red on white and one last glance. A pool of blood on the floor. It can't be the bed because he doesn't go there anymore. That was where he was with him. For that last time.

He can't say last. He can't think last.

"I don't want to say bye yet."

And he presses into the floor, head spinning, blood rushing from his arms and the knife held carefully in one hand. He presses into the floor and for the first time, he feels Kurt pressing back.

And Kurt's words race from his own mouth.

"I'm never saying goodbye to you."

_I can't come to your party, 'cause I think that I'm dead._


End file.
